Mr. Jones sat up and blinked his eyes. The professorial gentleman was
still in the far corner; the lady was still opposite him; the child
was wailing softly.

The lady smiled. "I'm afraid baby has broken your nap. A passing
express frightened him."

"Not at all," murmured Mr. Jones incoherently, searching for his
novel, the one solace left amid the ruin of his dreams.

"Pardon me," said the lady, "but if you are looking for your book you
threw it out of the window just before you woke up."

Mr. Jones sank back resignedly. His glory had gone, his book had gone.

Once again he settled himself in his corner to sleep--perchance to
dream.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "JACKY, DEAR, YOUR HANDS ARE FRIGHTFULLY DIRTY."

"NOT 'FRIGHTFULLY,' MUMMY. A LOT OF THAT'S SHADING."]

* * * * *

STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF THE GERMAN ENVOYS.

"Five minutes later the German plenipotentiaries reappeared,